Date Shark

By DelSheree Gladden

Life as the marketing director for a popular fashion boutique is overwhelming for Leila Sparrow, to say the least.

She’s not sure what ever possessed her to add revamping her dating life to her already hectic schedule. Calling in renowned Date Shark, Eli Walsh seemed like a good idea until she actually met with him...

Date Shark was only meant to be a side-enterprise to his thriving couple’s therapy practice, but Eli Walsh knows it’s become more of an obsession.

At least, it was until he agreed to take on Leila. Somehow she has stolen his entire focus. He wants to admit his fascination with her and growing romantic interest, but he knows coming on too strong will scare her away.

His plan to convince her that she is worth any man’s interest by first being her friend is challenged when his tips start to pay off and Leila begins dating Luke.

Will his friendship with Leila mean the end to any romantic pursuit?

• Language: English
• Publisher: DelSheree Gladden
• Release date: Jul 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370659340

DelSheree Gladden

DelSheree Gladden was one of those shy, quiet kids who spent more time reading than talking. She didn't speak a single word for the first few months of preschool. Her fascination with reading led to many hours spent in the library and bookstores, and eventually to writing. She wrote her first novel when she was sixteen years old, but spent ten years rewriting before it was published.Native to New Mexico, DelSheree and her family spent several years in Colorado before returning to northern New Mexico. When not writing novels, you can find DelSheree reading, hiking, sewing, playing with her dogs, and working with other authors.DelSheree has several bestselling young adult series and has hit the USA Today Bestseller list twice as part of box sets. DelSheree also has contemporary romance, cozy mystery, and paranormal new adult series. Her writing is as varied as her reading interests.

Book preview

Surviving

Nerves tightened every muscle in Leila’s body when she spotted Eli approaching the restaurant, even though she knew this wasn’t a real date. Even if she harbored any fantasy of him actually liking her—which she didn’t—seeing his stylish suit and old movie-style good looks were the first indication that he was way out of her league. Eli Walsh walked up to her, brisk but welcoming. His hand extended and Leila took it quickly. In her eagerness to get started, she gripped his hand firmly with both of hers and shook it like her hand was having a seizure. Immediately, she realized she was behaving like a desperate nut and dropped his hand. Her blush burned the inside of her cheeks so fiercely that she was afraid it would seep to the surface and catch her skin on fire.

Eli chuckled at her antics. Nervous?

She wanted to say no, make up for her erratic greeting by sounding confident, but Eli told her to be as honest and natural as possible. Yeah, a little.

Leila, relax. There’s no pressure on you tonight. Just be yourself. If you don’t, I won’t be able to get the information I need. He said it so calmly. But why shouldn’t he? He had done this dozens of times. It was his job, after all. Leila was paying him to be here. She was paying him a lot.

Eli smiled at her. For one tiny moment, she let herself notice how sweet the curve of his lips looked, the genuine warmth they held. Leila shook herself back to reality quickly.

Are you ready? he asked.

Yeah, I think so.

Then let’s go to dinner. He held his arm out for Leila to slip her arm through. She felt like Scarlett O’Hara as she took his arm, one hand on top of the other. They started toward the restaurant. Leila was so enamored by the short red carpet leading to the door of the upscale Dolcini restaurant that she failed to notice the incline. The front of her shoe snagged on the ground and pitched her forward. Eli kept her from landing on her face and continued walking. He was a million times smoother than she was, as she had just demonstrated.

A very complimentary maître d’ named Pierce greeted them when they stepped into the foyer. He greeted Eli by name, as though they were old friends, and announced that their table was ready and waiting. Leila wondered briefly if this guy knew what Eli did for a living. Did he have any clue that the women his favorite guest brought here were desperate, confused, and out of all other options? If he did, he didn’t let on.

Eli pulled out Leila’s chair when they reached the table. It was such an unexpected treat that Leila was immediately flustered. Oh, Eli, please, you don’t need to do that. I can get my own chair, really.

It’s my pleasure, Leila. He waited, but now she felt even more awkward than before.

Really, I’m fine. Sit down. You don’t have to be so polite, especially since this isn’t… Leila caught herself and glanced over at Pierce, hoping he had missed her near slip. She had called Eli for help willingly, but admitting her faults to a stranger was mortifying. Leila sat down in her chair dejected. She didn’t look up when Eli finally left her side and sat down.

A leather-bound menu was set in front of her, but before she could bury herself in it, Pierce spoke and drew her eyes up to him. Your waiter tonight will be Tony. If you have any questions about the menu, please feel free to ask him. Also, our head chef has chosen several unique dishes for tonight that are not featured on the menu.

He paused, waiting for their assent to give them the details of these special dishes. Leila was still too deflated to respond, but Eli nodded.

To start off your meal, our chef offers a Panzanella caprese salad, a delectable mix of two Italian classics. The entrée features miso-glazed sea bass with asparagus, followed by a dark chocolate truffle tart with a raspberry reduction for dessert. Pierce smiled at Leila. The truffle tart is especially divine. My favorite dessert Chef Alonzo has come up with yet.

His easy attitude helped Leila regain a little of her composure. She smiled back and dared looking over at Eli after Pierce took his leave. She was encouraged by the pleasant expression on his face.

Pierce is a secret chocolate fanatic. Chef Alonzo saves him a dessert every night, but don’t tell him I told you that, Eli said, a playful glint in his eye.

My lips are sealed. He chuckled at her response. It was a pleasant sound, and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed made Leila smile again.

When she realized she was still holding her purse in her lap, Leila glanced around for somewhere to put it. The chair had a rounded back and no arm rests. She settled for setting it next to her on the chair, but it slid off immediately with an audible thump. Eli looked over at her curiously. Cringing, Leila reached down and snatched her purse off the floor and let it fall back into her lap.

She dropped her gaze to hide her scarlet cheeks and opened her menu. Deciphering its contents would be a perfect distraction. Like the chef’s special, she had no idea what most of it meant. If Pierce hadn’t said the Panzanella caprese was a salad, she wouldn’t have had a clue. She also didn’t know what miso was. The menu was filled with the names of dishes she was sure were fabulous, but the lack of descriptions left Leila lost. Was panko chicken different from regular chicken? What was raita? She wasn’t even sure whether pancetta was a meat or a vegetable.

The waiter arrived and took their drink orders with polite professionalism. Not as friendly as Pierce was, Tony only broke his uptight demeanor once. Right before he left, his eyes swept over Leila in consideration. It wasn’t a glance to scope out her figure or looks. It was clearly curiosity to know what was wrong with her. Suddenly, Leila’s earlier wondering about whether Pierce knew about Eli’s job was answered. They must all know. Pierce was simply better at hiding it. Tony turned away as if nothing had happened—and really it hadn’t—but with a deft sweep of her finger, Leila untucked her brunette hair from behind her ear. It fell forward to cover her face, and her embarrassment.

Have you decided what to order? Eli asked.

Leila folded her indecipherable menu and set it down. The special sounds so good, I think I’ll have that.

I usually prefer a ginger sauce when it comes to Japanese cuisine, but Alonzo does make a very good miso sauce. Have you ever had it before?

Oh yes, Leila lied. I prefer it over ginger. Her quick smile attempted to cover her deceit. The corner of Eli’s mouth twitched. He wasn’t buying it. Actually, I’ve never much liked ginger, in anything. Ginger ale and ginger snaps make me gag. My mom tried to give me some kind of ginger tea when I was sick once and it made me throw up. I didn’t like it before then, and I liked it even less after that.

Hmm, good thing Alonzo isn’t serving ginger sauce tonight then, Eli said.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t mention throwing up and gagging when we’re about to eat. Where are my manners?

Smiling, Eli said, Don’t worry about it. It takes a lot to dampen my appetite for good food.

Self-conscious, Leila looked to the side, hoping to see their waiter on his way back to take their order. A few seconds later, her wish was granted. His haughty eyes swept over her as if she weren’t even there. When he spoke, he addressed Eli first.

Have you had enough time to peruse the menu, Mr. Walsh?

Leila might have been imagining it, but Eli’s eyes seemed to narrow. I would prefer to let the lady order first.

You can order first, Eli. I don’t mind.

"I do mind," he said, his voice stern.

It’s not a big deal, Leila said.

Eli’s gaze focused in on Tony’s. It’s polite to let a lady order first.

Of course, Mr. Walsh. Tony turned to Leila with a perfectly blank expression. Miss? Have you decided?

Um, I’ll just have the chef’s special, she said. I’m sorry, I can’t remember what everything was called.

Tony smirked. Not to worry, Miss. I memorize the special each night. He turned back to Eli. And you, Mr. Walsh?

I will have the arugula and pancetta salad to start, and the beef bourguignon. Eli folded his menu and handed it back to Tony. Leila did the same. Tony was about to leave when Eli stopped him with a raised hand. Tony’s eyebrows lifted expectantly.

Would you let Conrad know I need to speak to him later tonight, if he has the time?

Eli’s words wiped any trace of attitude off Tony’s face. Yes, of course, Mr. Walsh. I’ll let him know immediately. Then, Tony high-tailed it back to the kitchen.

Who’s Conrad? Leila asked. The hard set of Eli’s features startled her and she backpedaled. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.

You’re not prying, Eli said as he slipped back into his casual, easy smile. Conrad is the owner. We’ve been friends for a long time. I’ve been meaning to talk to him the past few days and haven’t found the time. I thought since I was here, I would take advantage of the opportunity.

Leila could sense that there was more, but ignored it and minded her own business. Silence fell over their table. Her mind struggled to come up with something witty or intelligent to say. The pressure of knowing she was being graded made her concentration slip even more. Leila couldn’t seem to think at all. Her fingers started tapping nervously on the table. The sound of them clicking away hit her eardrums and she snatched her fingers back. Clenched into fists, they couldn’t make noise. She was failing miserably. Big surprise. This was her one chance to find out what was wrong with her and she was blowing it. The sting of tears spread through her face and her ears heated. She knew the inevitable drippy nose that always accompanied crying was only seconds away. That knowledge only made it ten times worse. Leila wanted to hide under the table, or maybe just run away.

So, Leila, what do you do for a living? Eli asked.

He already knew from the questionnaire she had filled out, but it was a lifeline out of her spiraling despair, and she latched onto it. Marketing. I work for a fashion boutique downtown. I’m the one who coordinates advertising and has the final say on print and internet marketing. I don’t design any of it, though. I’ve never been artistic, at all. It was the only class in high school I got a C in. Perspective made no sense to me at all.

It sounds like you do a lot. Do you have anyone to help you, or is it all just you? Eli asked.

Oh, no, I couldn’t do all that on my own. There’s a designer who does all the graphics, a copy editor we contract with, the store owner, Ana, and there’s usually a couple of interns running around hoping to become the next Versace.

Eli tilted his head to the side, watching her intently. Do you think they will? The interns, I mean.

I doubt it, Leila said. With the number of dream-filled designers versus actual success stories, the chances aren’t very good. Sometimes I wonder why they even bother. They spend hours and hours trying to worm their way into the industry and most of them end up either giving up and waiting tables or taking a fallback job like personal shopper or department store buyer’s assistant. In the end, they’ve wasted years of their life for nothing.

Any clue about what Eli thought of her response was carefully hidden. It was frustrating how well he could remain neutral. Leila wanted some clue as to how she was doing, but he gave her nothing. Tomorrow she would find out. Leila guessed that would have to be soon enough. Eli asked another question about her job, then her friends, her family. He kept Leila talking until their first course arrived.

Despite not knowing what she was ordering, the salad was fantastic. She only wished she could have said the same for her entrée. It turned out that Leila did not like miso glazed anything. But she forced herself to eat it regardless, only dropping her fork once and losing her napkin until Tony sauntered by and picked it up for her. He didn’t bother to ask if she want a clean one before leaving. So, she set it on the table and went back to picking at her sea bass. Her battered taste buds were saved by the truffle tart. Anything with that much chocolate couldn’t help but be delicious.

As the last of their dishes were cleared, another bout of uncertainty clung to Leila. She was not sure how long she should sit there. Should she wait for Eli to let her know their evening was over, or was he waiting for her? Deciding that trying to linger longer than her fee allowed was the worse option, Leila slipped her purse onto her shoulder and stood. Eli paused in the middle of laying his linen napkin back on the table, his face registering surprise. Instantly, Leila knew she had made another mistake, but sitting back down at that point would make her look twice as foolish.

I…I know you needed to speak with your friend, and it wasn’t like we were planning on doing anything else, so I’ll just let you get on with your night, she babbled like an idiot.

I’m in no hurry to talk to Conrad.

Still… Leila struggled to find something to follow her one-word response that made her sound at least slightly more intelligent than she did at the moment. All she could come up with was silence. Finally, Eli stood.

Let me walk you to your car then, he said as he came around the table.

So she could continue to embarrass herself?

That’s all right. I can make it on my own.

Leila, Eli said, suddenly sounding like her dad, I’ll walk you out to your car.

Sighing, she said, Fine.

Despite the fact that Eli held his arm out for Leila to take again, as if they were some kind of fairytale couple, she started forward without him. Pierce was there to open the door for her. Leila gave him a polite goodbye, careful to watch the inclined entrance as she left. The city air outside the restaurant was undoubtedly filled with pollution and ick, but she breathed it in anyway. She had such high hopes for tonight. All she wanted to do now was climb into bed and pretend she didn’t have to meet with Eli the next day.

Where did you park? Eli asked.

He was smart to guess Leila hadn’t used the valet. She had never been to a restaurant that had a valet, so she hadn’t been sure how it worked. Every once in a while, Leila thought ahead and prevented herself from doing something stupid. I’m three blocks down. I couldn’t find a space near the restaurant.

North or south?

Um, south, she said, glancing that direction then back at Eli.

She noticed droplets of moisture dripping from the canopy over the restaurant’s entrance behind him. It must have rained while they were inside. Leila wasn’t too concerned about her own shoes, but she worried Eli’s monkstrap dress shoes and tailored slacks might not survive the trek. The crisp April air made the dampness even more profound. Look, Eli, you’re sweet to offer to walk me to my car, but I know you have better things to do. You don’t need to feel obligated since…

Since this isn’t a real date? he finished.

Leila nodded.

Real date or not, Eli said, placing her hand on his arm, I have no intention of letting a young woman walk three city blocks at night all alone. Lead the way, Leila.

He was really only offering because his sense of chivalry was several notches higher than the majority of the male gender, but Leila still found herself smiling at his kindness. She clutched onto his arm a little more tightly and started forward. The three blocks passed quickly, but without incident. Leila was sure it was the nicest part of the whole night.

When they reached her car, Eli said, Are you still all right meeting for lunch tomorrow?

Yes, she said after a moment’s hesitation.

Good. I’ll see you tomorrow at The Fifth Street Café. Twelve o’clock.

I’ll be there, Leila said, even though she would rather be just about anywhere else.

Smiling as though he knew exactly what she was thinking, Eli opened the car door for her. Before she could get in Eli stopped her. His hand resting lightly on her shoulder made Leila’s tense muscles bunch up even more. Hey, he said, relax. Go home and do something just for you. You should feel good, proud of yourself.

Why? Had they been on different fake dates tonight?

Because, if nothing else, you just survived a night with the most notorious date shark in the city.

Notorious, huh? Nothing about you strikes me as notorious. Debonair, maybe. Handsome and generally fabulous.

Eli laughed. Goodnight, Leila Sparro. Then he did something completely unexpected. He kissed Leila’s cheek and walked away.

Leila slid into her car and touched her cheek. He must do that for everyone, she thought, but her skin seemed to pulse where he had kissed her. The only thing that broke up her amazement was Eli’s comment about tonight. She hadn’t survived the most notorious date shark in the city yet. Tomorrow she would get to hear about all the ways she screwed up. There was no way she was surviving that.

Chapter 2

One Word

Eli couldn’t help looking back at Leila as he walked away. She didn’t see him. For some reason, she was just sitting in her car. The sight of her inspired his hand to brush against his lips. For a moment, he let his fingers linger, then he stuffed them into his pockets and shook his head. That was stupid. The only consolation he had for the ill-advised move was that Leila probably thought he kissed all his clients goodnight. He didn’t. He had a rule about that, actually.

Eli’s misbehavior would have to wait, though. He stalked back into Dolcini, which he had just left, and ran into Pierce. His normal jovial nature had vanished. His hands were pressed together in penance. Eli, please let me apologize…

You have nothing to apologize for. Where’s Conrad?

He’s waiting for you at his usual table.

Eli didn’t wait for Pierce to escort him. After many of these types of nights, Eli sat with Conrad to discuss how the evening went. His experience with Leila wasn’t what he wanted to talk about tonight. Irritation built in him with every step. As soon as Conrad saw him, he stood and crossed his arms over his ample girth. Eli’s pace quickened, as did his anger.

Did Pierce tell you what happened tonight? Eli demanded.

He hesitated. He told me there was a problem, but that I should hear the details from you.

"Our waiter, Tony...that kid is gone tonight or I’ll start scheduling my meetings at Provençal instead."

Conrad’s hands flew away from his body in a pacifying gesture. Eli, he’s fired. No problem, but tell me what happened, at least.

The second he walked up… Eli’s hands balled into fists as he remembered the judgment in Tony’s eyes when he looked at Leila. He treated her like she was beneath his notice. He tried to take my order first, completely ignoring Leila. She knew what he was doing, too, Conrad. You should have seen the look on her face. She was mortified. Tony made it clear that he knew why she was with me and that he found her pathetic. It took all my effort not to find you right then and demand he be escorted out. The only reason I didn’t was to save Leila the embarrassment.

For a moment Conrad was silent. "Your business and friendship mean a lot to me, Eli. This will be Tony’s last night at Dolcini. His behavior was unacceptable. No matter why someone is in my restaurant, every one of my guests deserves to be treated like they were one of the bloody Rockefellers. I apologize for his behavior. When you meet with your client tomorrow, please tell her that I would be honored to have her back whenever she would like. On the house, of course."

I don’t think she’ll accept, Eli said, feeling somewhat pacified.

As my guest then. Tell her Pierce was so complimentary of her that I refuse to miss out on meeting her for myself. Conrad smiled. It wouldn’t be a lie, either.

No, it wouldn’t. Leila was someone everyone should want to meet. Conrad may love eating his food more than he should, but he had excellent taste when it came to gourmet cuisine and wine. His judge of people was only slightly less refined.

The pair of them sat down. Conrad gestured at the espresso and biscotti on the table. Eli picked up his miniature cup and let its warmth spread through his fingers. Another kind of heat stirred as his thoughts wandered to his broken rule.

You called her Leila, Conrad said unexpectedly.

What?

Setting down what was left of his biscotti,

Conrad peered at Eli. When you were railing on Tony, you called her Leila.

So?

So, I’ve never heard you refer to one of your clients by their first name. His intelligent eyes didn’t leave Eli as he sipped his espresso. I’ve also never seen you get so riled up about one of your clients. What’s going on?

Startled, Eli had a hard time answering. Huh? Going on? Conrad, there’s…she’s just another client. If Tony had treated anyone that way, I would have been pissed.

Conrad didn’t say anything. He waited, watching Eli flounder. The sound of him chewing on his biscotti shredded Eli’s concentration. He would wait here all night. A particularly loud crunch forced Eli’s voice to burst out of its cage. Fine, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so mad about Tony if it had been the woman from two days ago, the one who kept picking her teeth with her fingernails during dinner and laughing at every single thing I said whether it was funny or not. I was having a hard time not throwing her out on the curb myself.

The one tonight—Leila…she’s different than your usual fare.

Yes, she is, Eli said. He was hopeful that each of his clients would find what they wanted in life, but they were usually pretty much the same, sad, desperately lonely, neurotic, and socially challenged. That wasn’t Leila.

She’s a lot prettier than your usual clientele, too.

Leila was beautiful, though Eli didn’t know if she would agree with him on that. She’d probably apologize for being so attractive.

Kind of surprised she came to you, Conrad said.

Yeah, me too.

So, what’s wrong with her? Conrad had never been one for subtlety.

Sipping at his espresso, Eli said, I don’t discuss my clients.

Laughing so hard he sloshed dark liquid all over the table cloth, Conrad pointed a sausage finger at Eli. You sit here with me every time you throw one of your sad little fish back into the sea of lousy dates and unrealistic dreams. It’s the best part of my night, hearing about the meltdowns over butter dripping on the table or that one weird chick who chewed on her hair. I couldn’t imagine half the bizarre crap you tell me. You can’t stop sharing now.

Don’t make fun of my clients, Eli said, trying for irritation, struggling to hide a shiver. The hair chewer made him gag more than once. How could people be so blind about such obvious faults?

Come on, Eli. Why is Leila still single and asking for help from a date shark? Conrad rested his hands on his stomach and waited.

Eli was about to answer when Tony walked up to their table. The muscles in Eli’s chest constricted. The creak of his teeth grinding together was so loud inside his own head, he was sure the others could hear it as well.

Mr. Manera, Pierce said you wanted to speak with me before I left, Tony said. The steadiness of his voice conflicted with the way his fingers were drumming against his leg.

Conrad glanced over at me. Tony’s eyes followed and the drumroll on his leg intensified. I believe you met Mr. Walsh earlier this evening.

Yes, of course. I hope you enjoyed your meal, sir, Tony said. His fingers were double-timing it now.

Eli held back a razor-edged reply and let his friend continue.

I’m sure Mr. Walsh’s food was excellent, as always, Conrad said. He never failed to compliment his own establishment. Eli suppressed a chuckle at his pride, even though he was quite right. His beef bourguignon was delicious. The problem Mr. Walsh had with his meal was the service. Your service, Tony.

I assure you, Mr. Manera…

Can it, Tony. The boom of his voice snapped Tony’s jaw shut. "I assume you heard from some of the others about Mr. Walsh’s business. It’s no secret that his clients come to him seeking dating advice. What is a secret is that we here at Dolcini have any knowledge of Mr. Walsh’s business pursuits. You can know all you want, but you never show your opinion of that knowledge to a patron. You embarrassed Mr. Walsh’s client with your ineptitude."

Tony’s jaw made only ghost words for a few seconds. I never meant…

Sure you didn’t, Conrad mocked, but you did. You disgraced this restaurant and me. In this business, it doesn’t matter what a patron looks like, does, or even smells like, you treat them in a way that makes sure they come back. Remember that when you find a new job.

Red faced spluttering was followed by a furious, What?

You heard me, kid. You’re done here.

You’re firing me because I snubbed some desperate, lonely chick who couldn’t get a date without paying for it? That’s ridiculous! You can’t fire me for something like that!

I can fire you for whatever reason I want, you little prick. Now get out!

Tony stood there fuming for a good thirty seconds before doing an about-face and storming away from the table. Even when he was out of their sight, his shrill voice started spouting expletives that could still be heard for a few seconds afterward. Eli shook his head. Eli had just cost that young man his job, but he didn’t feel guilty in the least. The only thing he was sorry about was that Leila had missed it.

Well, Conrad said, now I’ve got to find me another waiter.

Sorry. Not sorry about Tony, just the stress of finding someone to replace him. Eli knew how much Conrad despised reading resumes.

Nah, don’t worry about it. The idiot had only been here for two weeks and already most of my staff wanted to filet him into tiny pieces. It wasn’t just Leila he thought was beneath him. It was pretty much the entire world. Kid’s got an ego that could swallow the sun.

What really made Eli the maddest about the way Tony treated Leila was that she was nothing like most of the other women that hired him. It was hard not to slip up when a woman was wearing something so revealing and inappropriate that you were afraid she was going to fall out of her dress in the middle of the meal, or when the woman who seemed normal at first pulls out a rolled-up snakeskin her pet boa constrictor shed the previous week and asks you if you want to touch it. Some of the women Eli brought here were so painfully unaware of how insane they made themselves look that people couldn’t help stare or shy away. Leila had her faults, which Eli had tucked away in the back of his mind for their next meeting, but she was a breath of fresh air compared to most of the others. Tony didn’t even give her a chance.

I’ll have Pierce make up an invitation for Leila. I caught a glimpse of her earlier. She’s a doll. Pick it up tomorrow before you meet with her, okay?

Sure. Conrad was a good friend. Which was why Eli’s sudden irritation at him was so odd.

You know what really chaps me about Tony is that he drags my name around with him when he pulls crap like this, Conrad said, distracting Eli. I may not cook the food served here anymore, but I approve every recipe. Our food is the best in the city, and I hate the idea of anyone being put off because of some arrogant waiter.

This was going to dig at him for at least two weeks. Eli knew him too well. Conrad loved his restaurant more than anything or anyone. Which was why he was still single, but it fulfilled him. Eli knew this, but his earlier annoyance at him for wanting to have dinner with Leila made him say, She hated the miso-glazed sea bass, by the way.

What? His mouth actually fell open. Did she actually say that?

No, of course not, but she grimaced every time she forced herself to eat a piece.

That’s one of my favorite recipes!

Eli shrugged, enjoying his shock for a moment. Unrefined palate, that must be what’s wrong with her, Conrad grumbled.

Yes, I’m sure that’s it. Eli slouched down in his chair and leaned his head back. He loved this restaurant almost as much as Conrad did. Its elegant, but homey feel was calming. It made Eli feel like he was back at his mother’s house. Memories of her tried to creep up to the surface, but Eli shoved them away quickly and forcefully.

The clink of his friend’s espresso cup meeting back up with its saucer registered with Eli, but didn’t make him stir. So, Conrad said, what was Ms. Leila’s biggest fault, the reason she is alone. One word only. You know the rules.

The rules. That phrase struck a nerve. Just let me relax, Conrad.

Ha, this was an unspoken part of our business arrangement. Don’t fail me now.

It was a stupid game, but it did usually help Eli collect all his observations and arrange them into a concise list. One word to describe the woman’s greatest fault, then two, then a sentence, working his way into a